Vigilance
by Miss Mungoe
Summary: Two weeks, and she finally throws caution to the wind. – Luffy/Nami, Ace, post-Impel Down.


AN: Set post-Impel Down and the Whitebeard War. Luffy/Nami, 'cause they're cute as kittens. **As by 18.11.2012, some (minor) details have been REVISED **to match the current storyline. It was originally written long before 3D2Y, so if there are still some irregularities, that's why.

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eiichiro Oda.

* * *

******Vigilance**

******by Miss Mungoe**

It's well past midnight when she finds him.

He is at the head of the ship; a lone figure against the dark horizon, watching the waves as they push lazily against the hull. He doesn't lounge on the deck like she's used to seeing him do – doesn't perch so far out on the figurehead she'll worry that he'll accidentally fall overboard without anyone noticing. He simply stands, silent and watching. And it has become such a familiar sight, it all but tears her apart, knowing full well the reason behind this new pattern of behaviour.

On nights like these, she keeps a silent vigil from a distance; a shadow by the wall of the galley, eyes watching intently for any change in his demeanour, her heart heavy with grief for her captain and nakama. It has become a routine for them, these past few weeks. Habitual. Redundant, almost.

He is well aware of her presence, of course, but has yet to make a move to acknowledge it. There are no bright smiles for her on these nights; no boisterous laughter or an excited voice beckoning her closer, asking her to sit on the figurehead and watch the stars with him. There is only silence, heavy between them – an ever growing chasm she is beginning to fear she will never be able to breach. Nami has always known a desperate longing for the things she doesn't have, be it money, her mother, or at one point, her freedom. But she cannot remember ever desiring something as desperately as having Luffy turn around to smile at her, to flash her that patented grin that can make all her insecurities and fears evaporate in a heartbeat, and that can make her believe that everything will be alright. It has been a lifeline for all of them in their time together, reeling them in if they stray too far in their insecurities, and pushing them to their feet when they are ready to give up. He still smiles, of course, but the laughter in his eyes is a dull shadow of what it once was.

Something has changed in him. She can see it in the way he carries himself, even as he stands alone on deck, back ramrod straight with his arms crossed over his chest. There is no impatient fidgeting, no eager glances as he strains his neck to look for islands on the distant horizon. That Luffy still exists – there is no doubt in her mind about that. He joks around during the day with the others, he pisses her off on an hourly basis, he is at Sanji's heels for food and Brook's elbow for a new song without a pause between. During the daytime, there is little trace of any changes, except for those who knows where to look. She'd known within five minutes of their reunion.

And the fist-sized lump in the bottom of her stomach hasn't left her since.

Finding him on deck that first night had only strengthened her concerns. The Luffy before her then was like the one before her now, completely still, calm and resolute to a degree that was neither logical nor possible for a man physically unable to sit still. Dark eyes scan the ocean before him, as though willing the depths to swallow him up, and that is her greatest fear; the reason she can't sleep at night, and the reason she remains in the shadows, silently keeping watch. She is terrified of waking one day to find him…gone.

The notion is nothing short of ridiculous – she reminds herself of that fact often enough – but there are times she can't help herself. Like when she observes him during the day, watching as the occasional shadow flits across his face, and she can't help but fear that one day, the pain will just be too much for him to handle. After all, this is not the boy she'd been separated from all those months ago – the reckless idiot who greeted everything in his path with a grin and a laugh. That boy died along with his brother, and in his place is a young man who bears too many scars for his years. Because despite his usual attitude, there are shadows in his eyes that have not been there before. A tenseness to his shoulders that is hard to ignore.

Her hands twitch against her sides as she watches, contemplating the possibility of stepping forward, of breaking the cycle, so that…so that…

What? What does she hope will happen? She can hardly answer her own question. Anything? A reaction – _a____ny_reaction. She fingers the hem of her shirt, turning the possibilities over in her mind.

Two weeks. It has been two weeks since their reunion, and her meeting with the strange man before her. She's seen glimpses of him in their captain before – quick, like flashes of lightning on a cloudless day, be it a change in his demeanour during battle or a surprisingly wise remark during a time of great difficulty. She's seen him before, this other side of Monkey D. Luffy, but now, in the heavy blanket of night, it seems as though it has completely overtaken him, and in the crash of dark waves against the ship, the ever-cheerful and reckless captain that had dragged her along on the craziest of adventures so long ago seems like nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

He sighs, and she can see his shoulders sag, as though struggling under a heavy weight. Nami bites the inside of her cheek, eyes furrowing in sudden determination, and for the first time in two weeks – two weeks of keeping watch from afar – she decides to throw caution to the wind. Pushing away from the wall of the galley, she makes her way towards the head of the ship, bare feet padding silently across the lawn deck, the dampness of the grass chilling her already freezing toes. The ship is anchored in the outer-vicinity of a winter island, and the night chill is biting against her bare skin. Ignoring the numbness in her toes, she focuses her attention on the figure before her, mentally willing her decision to be the right one.

She stops a short distance away, patiently waiting for him to acknowledge her presence, trembling hands fidgeting yet again with the hem of her shirt. She forces them to stop. She's never been nervous around him in the past, and the fact that she is now is oddly unsettling, and she tries to remind herself that it is still him standing there_. _An oddly silent version of him, perhaps, but him nonetheless.

Having sensed her approach, he turns his head towards her, and the eyes meeting hers – eyes that are usually bright with joy and mischief – seem almost…dull, as though the light has gone right out of them. Her gaze sweeps across his face, taking in his features, and a heavy sadness settles in the pit of her stomach at the sight. He's always looked so _young _to her – his exuberant attitude and lively manner only adding to his already boyish appearance. And despite the years spanning their separation, something in her hadn't been prepared for the fact that, along with the others, Luffy had changed as well.

Her eyes leaves his face, gaze coming to rest on the violent scar marring his front, and her heart hurts as she recollects images of a freckled face bearing a devious smirk, and she knows that this is a burden he will never allow himself to forget. It is such a tangible reminder of the path they are walking – the corrupt and unjust path of pirates. And though scars fade with time, she'll only be kidding herself if she imagines this one will ever go away.

She realizes he's taken notice of the direction of her gaze, and he abruptly turns his attention back to the sea. His voice is weary when he speaks, "Why aren't you sleeping?"

She startles slightly at the raw sound of his voice, such a far cry from his usually high-pitched, laughing lilt. She makes no move to leave, but stands her ground, eyes resting on his back. His hat hangs around his neck, the straw-gold almost dull against the vibrant colour of his shirt. The fact that he still dresses the same is an odd comfort.

"Why aren't you?" she counters after a lull, her voice steady despite the fact that she's shaking like a leaf.

He doesn't reply, and the silence between them grows heavier, until the point where it's almost suffocating. Nami sighs, having no idea what she's doing or what the best course of action is, but also knowing that she has to do ___something _now that she has broken the cycle.

"Luffy–" she begins, and promptly stops, her words dying on her tongue before she can speak them. None of them seem sufficient, only excessive, and it irks her that her silver tongue is of no use when she actually needs it. He makes no move to look at her or acknowledge that she is speaking to him, but the whitening of his knuckles as he clutches at his arms is not lost on her, and before she can stop herself – or before her mind can reason her into submission – her body has made the decision for her.

Hell, if she was going to throw caution to the wind, she might as well do it properly.

He stiffens in surprise when her arms come to wrap around his waist, locking themselves securely at his front and leaving little room for him to wiggle away. Her fingers brush against the roughened scar tissue lacerating his stomach, but she ignores the morbid sensation, focusing instead on the familiar scent of sweat and straw and the spices Sanji uses to season his meat. The fact that he still smells is another strange comfort, as though it confirms that this is still ___Luffy__,_ and that their captain is with them, grief in his heart and scars on his body, _but ____with them __nonetheless._

The awkward moment that follows her decidedly out-of-character display of public affection feels like the longest of her life, and the thought strikes her that perhaps she should have chosen a smoother transition from watching from a distance to all but throwing herself at him. Maybe it was a bit too daring, even for her. To her immense relief he makes no move to push her away, but at the same time, remains completely rigid in her arms, as though unsure of the appropriate course of action. It makes her smile, glad she's not the only one who has no idea what the hell she's doing. The coarse straw of his hat is chafing against her face, and she moves her head, laying her cheek flat against one of his shoulderblades as she breathes in through her nose.

At her exhalation, he seems to finally allow himself to relax in her impromptu embrace, and she tightens her hold a fraction, to assure him that she's not going anywhere. And when his hands come to rest tentatively over hers, hope rekindled within her; flaring to life and curling lazily in the pit of her stomach, and effectively loosening the knot that has taken shape there.

"Ne, Nami..."

Her name rumbles in his chest; a low, comforting sound that sends her heart leaping against her ribcage. There is no whine in his voice when he speaks; the childlike glee she is used to having been replaced by a more serious tone.

"Mm?"

His hands leave hers then, and he steps away from her, and she knows she's overstepped some kind of line. ___Too much too soon__, _her mind chastises her scathingly, and she closes her eyes, an apology at the tip of her tongue, ready to excuse her behaviour–

–only to have him pull her against him, catching her completely off guard and drowning any apologies she has prepared. And before she can gather her thoughts his arms are around her shoulders, strong and steady and all but crushing her to him with the desperation of a scared child, as if she will evaporate if he doesn't hold her tightly enough. And despite her reeling surprise, she slides her arms around his waist in return, hugging him close as she tucks her head in the crook of his neck.

He doesn't say anything, but she's not about to demand anything else from him. She has given him her support – that he has chosen to take her up on her offer instead of pushing her away and demanding to be left alone with his grief is more than she could have hoped. She will not bother him with needless words, not until he asks for them himself, but Luffy being Luffy, perhaps he never will. And perhaps this is what he's needed all along.

"I failed," he says then, his voice a murmur against her hair, but the force of them like a physical blow. A familiar blow that sends an unpleasant shiver of recognition down her spine, because if anyone can hope to relate to what he is feeling, it's her. She knows this feeling – she's felt it a thousand times, and every time as sharp as the one before. All throughout her childhood the cold and unforgiving hands of helplessness and grief kept their unwavering grip on her heart, constantly reminding her of how she'd failed the people she loves; her mother, her sister, Gen-san, her entire ___village__…_

_She knows how he feels._

And she knows she will never allow him to succumb to it as she once had; poisoning himself until all that remains is a bitter, empty shell of the man that had once was. The exuberant man who will become the Pirate King. She will not let him become like _she_ had once been; cynical and suspicious of everything and everyone, of life in general and his own self-worth.

If he thinks that, he has another thing coming.

"Don't be an idiot," she snaps, her words intentionally cutting, and leaving no room for rebuttal. "You went through hell. You risked your ___life__. _You didn't–"

"I ___failed__."_

His voice cuts her off mid-sentence, and she closes her mouth, eyes softening as the feelings she assumes he's shoved somewhere deep within him finally finds an outlet.

"Ace," he begins, taking a sharp breath, ___"Ace _should be alive, not me. He always had to be the protector! Even when we were kids, I was always–" he stops, biting the inside of his cheek as he glares at the deck.

___Always the weak one__, _she knows are the words he wants to say, but refuses to let slip past his lips, because he's not usually the one to succumb to such thoughts. But going by the few images she's seen from the execution – the few she'd been able to see before she'd become violently ill – even a man with Luffy's confidence would have a hard time brushing himself off and moving on. Holding your brother as he bled to death after a fatal assault meant for ___you__..._it wasn't something you just walked away from.

Her face is still buried in his neck as her thoughts drift to another time and another childhood, and a girl who took more than her fair share of punishment for the little sister who couldn't keep her thieving hands to herself. A girl who never failed to remind the world of her age, that she was the eldest and that therefore, the duty of protection was hers alone.

"It's his job, you know," she says then, and her words aren't meant to be comforting. They're meant to be factual. He says nothing to that, but he squirms against her, no doubt realizing what she is going to say isn't going to be pleasant.

But she doesn't really care about pleasant. Not now. He needs to hear what she has to say. "He was – ___is__ – _your older brother. It's his j_ob _to protect you, whether you like it or not," she declares then, an odd sort of boldness taking hold of her as she speaks. "You might hate it, and you might curse him for it, but none of those things would have changed how he felt about it, and in the end, he would have made the same choices regardless of how you felt. He'd still have taken that hit for you, because ___it's his job to protect you._ That's what older siblings___do__.__"_

And as the words leave her lips, images flashes across her vision of a vibrant head of blue hair and darkened skin covered with an excessive amount of tattoos – a ridiculous token by a girl who only wanted to make her baby sister comfortable. She's lost count of the amount of times Nojiko has taken hits for her – physical and verbal alike – but no matter how many times she's screamed at her sister to ___let her handle things for once_, Nojiko would just smile at her with that knowing grin, as though saying, 'You'll get your chance, baby sister. One day, when my job is done and you're strong enough to stand on your own two feet in this world.'

The memory of her sister triggers another, also of an older sibling; male, and with the same ridiculously excessive amount of tattoos, and wearing the exact same fond and playfully patronizing grin.

_"____A kid brother like you makes a big brother worry."_

_"____Take care of him for me, okay?"_

"You were everything to him," she says, confidence guiding her voice and her words. "And he would have given the world just to see you get safely away from that place, so don't you _dare _say you've failed. You're _alive, _even after everything you've gone through, and you can bet all our bounties that's all he ever wanted, in the end."

She knows he's about to protest and shakes her head, cutting him off. "_Luffy,_" she snaps, because she ___needs _to tell him this – needs to make him understand; to make him ___see._"I spent _years _trying to carry a burden that was too large for my shoulders because I wanted to protect the people I loved. I _despised _you all for butting in back then, when all I was trying to do was keep you safe," she drives on, memories from her years in Arlong Park colouring her voice, making it sound bitter and harsh. "I'd gladly give my life for any of them – for _any of_ ___you__ – _but sometimes…" she sighs, and the sound is heavy between them.

"Sometimes you just have to accept that there are people who'd give their lives for ___you_, too."

She receives no immediate verbal reply, but the arms around her slackens, and she closes her eyes, realizing that the moment is lost, and that she truly has gone a little too far a little too quickly. But just as she is preparing herself to have him pull away, he surprises her again by resting his hands on her shoulders. And instead of pushing her away, he holds her at arms length, and when she opens her eyes to look at him there is an intensity in his gaze not unlike what she is familiar with from the many battles they'd been through together. He looks at her like an opponent, but there is no hostility in his gaze, only a wary form of curiosity.

And spurred by some force beyond her control, her body acts where her common sense hesitates.

She moves before either of them has a chance to react, and with the swiftness of a master pickpocket she steps towards him, closing the gap and rising to the tips of her numb toes in one fluid movement, and the distinct widening of his eyes is the last thing she sees before her own slip shut. And then she's kissing her captain, and caution has, she is certain, been thrown quite thoroughly to the wind.

She's caught him by surprise, too – that much is obvious by the yelp that escapes him, and she half expects him to violently push her away and yell ___'Gross, Nami!'_or something of the like. It is a pleasant surprise then, when his rigid posture relaxes against hers, his shoulders sag as he gives in to her coaxing lips, and she feels triumph blossom in her chest as his hands reach up to cup her face. And then it's not just her kissing him anymore, because he's kissing her back with a fervour that's both thrilling and absolutely terrifying, and there's a strange warmth simmering in the pit of her stomach, unfurling and travelling all the way down to the very tips of the toes she's balancing on.

He tilts his head downwards, one of his arms reaching down to support her back, and she realizes he has moved so she can place her heels back down, and she smiles against his mouth at the gesture. Reaching up, she hooks an arm around his neck, deepening the kiss as she pulls his head down further, a thumb lightly tracing the scar on his cheek. It's coarse and familiar and even after all these years she has no idea where he got it, but it doesn't matter, because it's part of what makes him who he is and she won't have him any other way.

When they pull away, noses inches apart and cold breaths intermingling, she can't keep the grin off her face – a genuinely giddy smile relaying feelings that only boundless amounts of treasure has been able to evoke in her in the past. It's her treasure-grin, and it's _his_ now, and she doesn't really give a damn about One Piece if she can have _this_.

And then he smiles back, a faint smile, yet a smile that reaches all the way to his eyes for what seems like the first time since before their separation. And her heart soars, and she wonders briefly at the sudden turn of events; from cold nights spent keeping silent vigil from afar to her current place in the safety of his arms, freezing cold and no more wiser than him as to what the hell they are doing or where they are planned on taking things. But it doesn't really matter, because there is a light in his eyes now. And as is the norm for anyone spending enough time around the man, she feels his confidence – for what, she can't tell, but it's confidence nevertheless. A pleasant weight on her heart, overlapping with the one that reminds her that this...this is the man who will become the Pirate King.

"His sacrifice wasn't in vain," she tells him then – reminds him, because he should _know_ _already _– and her voice startles him from wherever his mind has been. Nami grins. "You're the strongest person I know, Monkey D. Luffy; the strongest person _we all _know. Don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise." Unhooking her arm from around his neck, she lets her hand find his where it still holds her cheek, curling her fingers around his and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

"But even the strongest needs someone to protect ___him _once in awhile."

She let the words hang between them, watching as a series of emotions dance across his face. After a moment of inner struggle, he seems to settle on some form of resignation, and his eyes slip shut, a heavy sigh escaping his lips and fanning her cold cheeks.

"Yeah. Just...this wasn't supposed to happen, Nami. I mean, what if something like this happens in the future? What if I can't protect ___you_?"

She knows he means the crew as a whole, but the selfish thought of it meaning _her _alone makes her shiver. Her hand slips away from his, and she tilts her head slightly, giving his lips a peck. It's a small gesture, chaste, but carrying more emotion that she can hope to relay in words, because Luffy has never been and will probably never be a man of excessive talking. Actions have always been better, and if that is the way to remind him of their presence and support, Nami will make sure they all hug-tackle him every few days just to pound the notion into his thick skull.

And more to reassure herself, she who is a woman of silver words, she lets slip the truth they all carry with them every day. "A lot of things won't turn out the way we want them to, you know? Not on this ocean. We're pirates. We're lucky if we get out of this adventure alive."

He opens his mouth to protest at that, and though she's secretly glad his confidence in their abilities is making itself known, the hands of a master cut-purse are quicker than his tongue, and before he can get the words out there is a finger on his lips, silencing him.

"If we're going down," she says, shuddering inwardly at the morbidity of it all. "_If _we're going down, we're going to put up one hell of a fight," she continues. "You fought with all you had for your brother, just like I know you'll fight with all you have for any one of us. Just promise me this," she ads, and now a smile tugs at her lips.

"Promise me you'll let us fight for _you_, too. Stop trying to shoulder this all on your own. It's foolish and unnecessary, when you've got one of the most loyal crews on the Grand Line at your back."

He doesn't give her an immediate answer to her request. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all, just pulls her against him again as he buries his face in her neck. She wraps her arms around him in turn, smiling into his chest. With anyone else, she might have demanded a verbal reply to her skilful eloquence, but this is Monkey D. Luffy, and his actions have always spoken louder than his words, anyway.

"Nami?"

"Mm?"

His arms tighten around her. "Thanks."

She nods wordlessly, pulling back from the embrace, her hands seeking his. "Come on," she says with a smile, tugging at his hands as she starts off towards the galley. At the confused look on his face, her smile turns mischievous.

"I know where Sanji hides the key to the fridge."

The grin that spreads across his face sends her heart into another wild rampage against her ribs, and she grins back, giving his hand another tug. His slack fingers curl around hers, entwining them, and he follows her across the lawn, the silence of the night penetrated only by the muffled thump-thump-thump of their feet against the deck and the lap of the waves against the ship.

She knows he will never be the same. She's not going to kid herself believing that anymore than she's going to think the New World will be a rose-walk. They have all changed in the past two years. It was an inevitability that finally caught up with them, in their years apart. Because the tides are changing, and the world demands sacrifice for their voyage onwards. There is no room for innocence in the New World. She'd known this – they all had, but she doubts any one of them will ever experience the injustice of their corrupt world as thoroughly as their captain. In a reality where pirates are executed not for their actions but for the blood running through their veins, seeing this, how can anyone remain the same on this ocean? Luffy had seen with his own eyes, and felt with his own heart the worst the world has to offer, and she'd be a fool if she were to think he would magically revert back to his old self in the aftermath.

But, she thinks as her eyes take in the expression on his face; weary yet resolute, making him look oddly…mature. Perhaps this change was necessary. He is still Luffy, beneath all the scars, and he is still an idiot and an incurable troublemaker. That won't change, even if his outlook on life has. The thought calms her, somewhat.

He opens the door to the galley for her, and the warmth from inside beckons her towards it, and she longs for a pair of warm socks. _Or a fire_, she thinks, curling her numb toes against the cold floor of the deck. Just as she is about to step inside, however, she catches sight of a shadowed shape at the corner of her eye, perched at the railing to her left. She frowns, and is about to turn her head to check when a warmth like no other envelops her; heating her up from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes, and her breath lodges in her throat, eyes flying open as she_ recognizes the presence__-_

_"Thank you."_

Her heart stops in her chest at the echo in the night – or was it in her head? She can't tell, but she's certain she'd heard it. The words had been loud and clear, and the voice achingly familiar; smooth and wise and just a twinge sardonic – a soft breeze rustling the branches of her mikan grove.

And just like that, the presence is gone, and the chill hits her like a physical blow, rooting her in place and sucking the breath from her lungs. She is faintly aware of Luffy asking her if she's alright, but his voice seems far away, and she doesn't quite know what to make of it all. The memory of the voice is already slipping – a whisper at the edge of her subconscious, like a dream in the first moments of waking, but she _knows_ it hadn't just been a mere trick of her own mind.

"No," she says then, resolute, because disagreeing is, after all, amongst her finer traits. A smile tugs at her lips. "Thank ___you._" For letting him come back to them alive.

___Thank you, Ace._

"You alright, Nami? Did'ya say something?"

Eyes still on the dark horizon, Nami shakes her head, a smile on her face. "I'm fine," she says, as she turns back to her captain. "Just talking to myself," she lies smoothly. She knows he won't question her further, not with food on his mind, but he surprises her by tugging her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead and sending her heart into another bout of furious palpitations. When he pulls back, there's a mischievous smile on his lips.

"You said you knew where Sanji hides the key?"

She is certain her laughter will wake the entire ship, and she finds that although he will probably never be quite the same, Luffy is still Luffy. They still have a long voyage ahead of them, and there is doubtless more heartbreak awaiting them in the future, but she knows, as she fishes the desired key out of its secret hiding place, that she will be there with him this time. With him, and for him. For every step he takes, she will follow – they all will. To the ends of the world and back, if needed be.

Handing the key to her captain, silently apologizing to Sanji as she does but knowing the cook won't really mind, she muses idly if they will need to stop for supplies in the morning. And for the first time since witnessing the sheer extent of Luffy's seemingly bottomless appetite, she hopes they will have to. After all, they have promised his brother they will take care of him, and if that means keeping enough meat in stock to leave him happy and well-fed, then that is what they will do.

"Y'know, Nami. Sanji's going to kick my ass for this."

She shrugs, waving him off. "I'll distract him. Now ___eat_– you're scrawny enough as it is. I'm getting hungry just looking at you."

They are not going to let him carry his burdens alone.

* * *

AN: I love the Strawhats.


End file.
